When it Rains, it Pours
by JamesLuver
Summary: Modern AU. Anna and John's plans to spend a quiet day together are derailed by the bad weather. It isn't always a bad thing.


**A/N:** Happy Birthday, **awesomegreentie**! I hope you have a wonderful day, and that you enjoy this little gift. :D

Based on the following prompt over at OTP Prompts: _Person A and Person B have plans to hang out. On A's walk to B's house, it starts sprinkling, then pouring down rain. When they get there, their clothes are soaked through and the weather is so bad that they have no option but to stay at Person B's house. Since their clothes are soaked through, A has to wear B's clothes._

 **Disclaimer:** I don't own _Downton Abbey_.

* * *

 _When it Rains, it Pours_

"At what point were you going to tell me?"

At the sound of her best friend's voice behind her, Anna tore her attention away from the report she had been compiling on the Flintshire finances. With great reluctance—she had just been getting into her stride—she swung around in her swivel chair and raised her eyebrow.

"When was I going to tell you what?" she said.

Mary Crawley huffed, tucking a glossy strand of hair behind her ear, the expensive rings on her fingers catching the light from the window and sending spots of ruby and emerald and sapphire shivering on the wall. "Don't act the innocent party with me. You know very well what I mean. We had plans this weekend. We were supposed to be having a luxury spa break away from all of this stress and chaos. And then I hear through the grapevine that you're spending the time with John Bates!"

"…Oh," said Anna sheepishly. "When did we talk about the spa weekend?"

Mary tutted. "Weeks ago. Though perhaps I ought to have guessed that you weren't listening when you just kept making vague humming noises. You did have your phone out at the time. No doubt your mind was focused on other things."

Anna ducked her head, feeling the heat rising in her cheeks. "Yes, that might have been the case." Now that she thought about it, she could vaguely bring the day to mind. She and John had finally— _finally!_ —stopped dancing around each other like suitors from another century. Just a few weeks before that, she had taken the bull by the horns and asked him out. He had done a bit of his usual infuriating noble nonsense act, but she had managed to dismiss each one of his concerns with a frankness that she was really rather proud of, and in the end, he had been helpless to do anything but succumb.

Two years of dancing around each other would do that to people, she supposed.

Which had led them to this.

Spending any spare minute they had together, texting each other long after they had parted…Mary often tutted that it was like being around two teenagers in the first flush of love, but if Anna was honest with herself, she had never felt this way before about anyone. She'd had boyfriends before, but none of those feelings could come close to the way that she felt when she was with John. She had never missed anyone the way that she missed him when they were apart. No one had ever made her laugh the way that he could make her with just a quirk of the eyebrow. He had always been so much to her. He was her co-conspirator, her very best friend. She knew that she could tell him anything. Her secrets were safe with him.

It was an added bonus that she could kiss him whenever she wanted nowadays.

When Mary had been proposing the spa weekend, she must have been completely wrapped up in texting John to arrange their next date. In moments like that, someone could probably tell her that they were an alien from another planet and she'd just blandly agree and carry on with what she was doing. She felt rather guilty about it now.

"I'm sorry I wasn't listening," she said contritely. "I can cancel my plans with John. He'll understand. We can pick them up next weekend."

But Mary shook her head. "What kind of friend would I be if I made you cancel on your boyfriend? You'll only spend the whole weekend pining after him, and I have no wish to be second best. You stay here. I'm sure I'll find someone else to come with me."

Like who, Anna wanted to argue. She loved Mary to pieces, but her friend was aloof and distant at the best of times, and did not seem to have many female friends outside of Anna herself. She got on much better with the men, but that was because most of them were practically dropping over their own tongues, scrambling about after her like puppies, desperate to please. Anna suspected that that was exactly what Mary liked to see.

Deciding not to argue further, she shrugged. "All right, if you're sure. But let it be known that I would have cancelled to maintain our deal."

"And pouted about it all weekend," said Mary. "So much for sisters before misters. I just can't compete with lover boy. I don't have the right equipment, I suspect."

Anna felt her cheeks heat. Really, that was a bit rich. Mary had _constantly_ blown her off for the next man who looked her way in their younger years, texting her last minute to tell her that she had met an absolute dreamboat, and would she mind if they rearranged. Which Anna had just sighed at and agreed to, because there really was no point in trying to change Mary's mind. She supposed that Mary was just not used to this happening in reverse.

But what Mary was implying…if only. She and John had not reached that stage yet. Not through a lack of want on her behalf—and she hoped on his, too—but the timing had never quite felt right. There had been some very heated snogging, and a few hands wandering into territory that wasn't quite innocent, but it had never gone further than that. John had always pulled away, and she knew better than to push him if he wasn't ready. She was patient. She could wait. She had waited long enough for him already; a bit longer wouldn't kill her.

"I'll have lunch with you today, then," she said, ignoring the feeling in the pit of her stomach. "And we'll have a nice girly night tonight. How does that sound?"

"I suppose that would be nice," said Mary.

Anna resisted the urge to roll her eyes at her lack of enthusiasm. "Great." She paused sheepishly. "I'll, um, just go and tell John that my dinner plans have changed."

She leapt out of her chair and hurried out of the room before Mary could swat her, but her exasperated cry of, "Anna!" followed her right down the corridor.

* * *

Half past ten meant break time, and Anna knew exactly where she would find her boyfriend. He always, without fail, turned up in the staffroom ten minutes later than everyone else. He pretended that he had been held up with one thing or another; she pretended not to know that he had been outside for a cigarette.

She would go down and see him today, whatever he was doing. She was not going to see him at dinner, so she wanted to squeeze in every moment she possibly could now.

She made her way downstairs to the courtyard at the back of the building. It wasn't exactly a cheery looking place, backed on as it was to other grey buildings, and littered with used cigarette ends. Anna liked to avoid it if she could. Pushing open the creaky door, she stepped out into the cool air.

Sarah O'Brien and Thomas Barrow were there, true to form, locked in the far corner together, no doubt coming up with more schemes that would make their co-workers' lives hell. John was leaning against the wall a few metres away, in the middle of taking a drag on his cigarette.

"Hello, you!" she called out to him cheerfully, her heart leaping at the sight of him, standing there cutting a right fine picture of brooding masculinity.

Her words sparked off a most comical reaction; upon realising that Anna was the one who had spoken, John almost threw his cigarette to the ground, crushing it frantically beneath his heel and trying to adopt an expression of innocent delight, though it was rather marred by the guilty panic that she could see in his eyes.

"Anna!" he said, his voice wavering slightly. "What a surprise! What-what are you doing down here?"

"I came to see you, of course," she said, making her way over to his side.

"But how did you know to find me here?"

"Intuition," she said, tongue firmly in cheek.

His cheeks had gone bright red. "I was, um…I just came down here for a little bit of fresh air. It was rather stuffy in the office. You know what it can be like."

"Of course," she said soothingly, thinking there was nothing fresh about the air out here, putrid with the stench of stale cigarettes as it was. "And the view is…lovely."

He blinked at her, as if he sensed a trap. "Yes, it is. I do like the architecture."

Anna resisted the urge to laugh with great difficulty. There was nothing nice about the architecture around here, either. The surrounding buildings, dirty and crumbling, looked like they hadn't seen a lick of paint in a century—unless rude words graffitied across the bricks counted.

"It's…lovely," she said, leaning against the wall next to him.

Seeming to sense that she was wilfully playing dumb in regards to the scene that she had walked in on, John smiled. "Well, it is very lovely to have you here, Miss Smith. I've missed you."

"So I should hope," she retorted. "I sometimes worry that it's a line that you use on all the pretty, unsuspecting girls who stumble into your path and are dazzled by your good looks."

John snorted. "Believe me, there's no other woman who could possibly compare to you. If one threw herself naked into my bed I would politely show her the door. Not that that would happen in a million years. You are one in a million, Anna, being able to see something worthwhile in me. I will never understand it for as long as I live, but I am blessed."

He was always so critical of himself. Not wishing to get dragged into another debate about his suitability, not when they had been doing so well in recent weeks, Anna decided that it was best all round if they got back to the topic at hand. "Well, anyway, I couldn't wait to see you in the staffroom because I'm going to have to cancel our dinner plans."

John's face fell into an expression of abject disappointment, and it pleased her to see because it gave her reassurance that he wanted this as much as she did. She could never doubt him, but it was nice to be reminded of it.

"Why?" he said.

She slid her arms around him, resting her chin on his chest as she looked up at him. "Apparently Mary had some grand plans for us this weekend, which I agreed to without really paying attention."

"Oh?"

"Yes. She's booked a spa weekend out in the countryside somewhere. And then she heard this morning that you and I had plans."

"They can be unarranged," he said at once, though the regret in his voice now was unmistakable.

"Mary's already unarranged the ones I made with her," she reassured him quickly. "She thought that I wouldn't be much fun if I spent the whole weekend pining for the time I could have spent with _you_. So I promised her that I'd have dinner with her today and a girly night with her tonight, to try and make it up to her."

"Which is why you've got to cancel our plans," he said.

"Yes, but it's for a very good cause, I promise."

"Oh, I know," he said, running his hands from her waist to her hips and back again in the most deliciously distracting fashion. "My choice is lose an hour with you today, or lose an entire two days with you. I'm not an idiot, believe me. I know exactly which one I'd prefer. Having you to myself for the whole weekend." His eyes widened slightly, as if his brain had just caught up with the words that his mouth had issued. "Not that I expect you to stay over, of course. Not that I want anything from you. Just your company. We won't even be in the house. We'll be outside. I thought we might go for a picnic—"

"Mr. Bates," she interrupted him, feeling a smile tugging at her lips, "please do be quiet."

And with that, she stretched up on her tiptoes, closing the distance between them and planting her mouth firmly on his. There. That was one effective way of getting him to shut up. He made a sound in the back of his throat and pulled her closer to him, stooping just a little to better the angle of their mouths. Anna sank her fingers into the thick hair at the back of his head, teasing her tongue between his lips—

"Christ, that's bloody disgusting. You're ruining our fag break."

"Yeah, the last thing I want to imagine is old Bates tonguing you. I think I'm going to lose my breakfast."

John pulled away from her at once, and Anna retracted back to her heels, turning her head to regard the voices that had so rudely interrupted them. Thomas Barrow and Sarah O'Brien. Of course. They would be there, waiting for their opportunity to interrupt, like a terrible smell that lingered. It seemed that no matter what they did, they always bounced back to cause more havoc. Anna couldn't understand why Robert kept them around. They were good at their jobs, but that was hardly worth the hassle, as far as she was concerned. She eyed them defiantly now, drawing up to her full height. She often wished she was a little taller, if only to make it seem more impressive than it probably was.

"Well, your presence is ruining _my_ break," she shot back. "Why don't you bugger off back to your corner and mind your own business?"

"Hark at her," said Sarah sourly. "Little Miss High and Mighty, getting above her station because she's sleeping with her boss. Wait until he's bored with you. Then you'll realise that you're as dispensable as the rest of us. He'll bed you a few times because it's good for his ego, and then he'll toss you aside like yesterday's rubbish."

"You—" John growled, taking a step forward, but Anna placed a hand on his arm. She could handle this. The last thing she needed was for John to lose that quick Irish temper and land up in trouble. That was exactly what they were hoping for. Well, they'd have to play smarter to outfox her.

"I'll take my chances," she said casually. "Besides, I'd say that you're both jealous."

"Jealous!?" said Sarah, a contemptuous smile curling her lip. "What on earth is there to be jealous of?"

"What we have," Anna said. "Of me. You wish you were me, sleeping with the boss. You're jealous because he chose me and didn't look twice at either of you."

"Barking," sneered Thomas. "I pride myself on having better taste than a broken old has-been."

"And _I_ wouldn't touch him if he was the last man on earth," said Sarah.

"I'm quite sure the feeling is mutual," said Anna. "And as for you, Thomas, you can hardly call your taste better, pining away the way you do after Jimmy when you know full well that he's never going to want you that way. Try and deny it all you like, but I know the truth. And I feel sorry for you because I know what you're missing out on." She turned her back on them abruptly and looked up into John's bemused face. "Now, Mr. Bates, where were we? Kindly resume what you'd already started. I need my fill of you before break finishes." With that, she grabbed the lapels of his jacket and pulled her back down to her, pressing her lips decisively against his. He made a muffled sound in the back of his throat, but his arms came up to hold her elbows, and she heard the disgusted sounds from the other two as they backed away. There, that was a victory if she had ever known one.

When their footsteps had receded, she pulled away from him slowly, lingering as long as she could before they were fully parted. Retracting back to her heels, she was pleased to see the way that his eyes had fluttered closed, and were still closed despite the distance between them now.

"There we go," she said softly. "I'd say that that's a victory for Team Bates."

"So would I," he replied, a little dazedly. His eyes finally opened, looking right at her. "That was very masterful of you, Miss Smith."

She shrugged. "Not really. I just hate the way that they always look down on you. I won't stand for it. You are a good man and a wonderful boyfriend, and I shan't hear a word against you."

"And you weren't the least bit embarrassed by what they were saying?"

"Why should I be?" she shot back. "I don't find it embarrassing that they think I'm sleeping with you."

"But you're not. You could have set the record straight."

"And had them smirking at me and thinking that there was something wrong with you? Or that I could never want you that way? No, I don't care if they think that we are. It's going to be true one day, anyway."

She let the words linger between them, watched the heat bloom in his cheeks. He nodded, and she smiled. His shyness was truly endearing. She knew that one day, when this was less new and overwhelming, he wouldn't react in quite the same way, but until that time, she was more than happy to see him squirm.

"Right," she said, checking her watch. "I'm going to head back inside now. I want a cup of tea before break is over."

"I'll see you back inside," he said.

"All right," she said, rising on her tiptoes to kiss him one more time. "And, for the love of God, if you want a cigarette, have a cigarette."

"I don't smoke," he protested lamely.

"You and I both know that that's not the truth. Really, John, it's fine. I'd rather you not hide things from me."

"I'm sorry," he offered. "I just know that you hate the habit. I don't want to be a disappointment to you."

"You could never be a disappointment to me. Now have your sneaky smoke and come and find me. I shall need another kiss to get me through the day."

He smiled at her, one of genuine joy. She patted his chest and slipped away from him, leaving him there to slip another cigarette from his packet and light up once more.

* * *

The rest of the day passed quickly. She shared a nice lunch out with Mary at the local sandwich shop, where they shared inconsequential conversation about office gossip and mutual friends. On the way home from work, they called at the local supermarket for emergency Girls Night In supplies of wine and chocolate and the latest DVD release of Hollywood's Hottest Hunk. They bedded down on the sofa with a duvet, snuggled together as they sighed over his romantic antics with the woman that most women longed to be. In some secret corner of her mind, Anna fantasised about it, but it was just that: a harmless fantasy. She had her real-life prince, and she wouldn't change him for the world. John Bates had swept her off her feet with nothing but a smile and a kind word, and she knew she was the luckiest woman in the world for how gently he treated her, as if she was singularly the only woman he could ever worship.

Still, she had promised Mary that she wouldn't mention John's name all evening, and she was determined to stick to her word. Instead, she sighed as she played her own internal film reel where John took the starring role, she as the woman he wanted to woo.

When the film ended, they parted for bed, and Anna snuggled down in her bed sheets. Taking out her phone, she saw that she had received a text from John.

 _I hope you've had a lovely Girls Night with Mary. Can't wait for Date Night tomorrow. X_

It was silly, how the sight of an _x_ could make her heart do backflips in her chest. But it meant so much more because she knew that John was not loose with his affections. Other people added kisses to the ends of their texts all the time. She was probably one of those guilty people. But with John, it was different. They were reserved solely for her.

 _It was a very, very nice evening,_ she texted back. _I think she has forgiven me for ducking out on her tomorrow. But I can't think of a better excuse than seeing you. I hope you haven't changed your mind on a Date Night that lasts all day, because I was very much counting on seeing you in the morning. Xxxx_

Her phone lit up only a minute after she'd sent her message.

 _As if I ever would. The thought of seeing you tomorrow morning is getting me through the night. I can't wait to see you again, Anna May Smith. You have imprinted yourself on my heart. Be round bright and early, otherwise I think I might die pining for you. Xxxx_

What a charmer he was. She told him as much.

 _I prefer to think of it as telling the truth. Goodnight, love. Sweet dreams. X_

With words like those, Anna knew that her dreams couldn't be anything other than sweet.

* * *

Anna waved Mary off early the next morning—thankfully, her sister, Sybil, had agreed to accompany her—then turned her attentions to the important day that she had ahead of her. Hours upon hours stretching luxuriously ahead, all to spend with John. She couldn't wait for it. And, for the very first time, they would be able to enjoy themselves without interruption. Mary had often texted her during her other dates wanting to know what was going on, and it had been irritatingly distracting. She had made her promise before leaving that she would not contact her while she was away at the spa. Mary had agreed reluctantly, but she was a woman of her word. Most of the time.

After showering, Anna pulled her clothes out of the wardrobe, laying them all across the bed as she looked at her selection with a critical eye. Some were disregarded immediately and cast back into the wardrobe, but others were deliberated over in an almost agonising fashion. It was so difficult to choose. Eventually, she settled on a pair of jeans and a pale pink blouse. There, that was safe. She could wear a cardigan if it got chilly, and she wouldn't be too obvious by wearing a short skirt that would doubtless send John running for the hills. She had to manage this carefully, and flaunting herself in such a manner was not the way forward. There was no doubt that they both wanted the same thing, but she knew she had to tread carefully with him. It had been a long time since he had had any practice with women, and she knew that Vera had played mind games that had affected him deeply if people bothered to look beyond the stoic surface.

She finished getting ready, touching up her makeup and brushing out her hair, then grabbed her cardigan. The sky outside was overcast, but while the wind was fresh, the temperature was still quite warm. They weren't the most ideal conditions for a picnic, but Anna was hopeful that the weather would hold. Downton had many picturesque spots, and she was sure that John had meticulously picked out the best one, because that was what he was like. They would have a very nice day, and then they would see where the evening took them. There was no pressure on either of them.

Under normal circumstances, she would have driven over to John's little cottage on the edge of Downton. However, she knew that if she walked, it would give them more time together. John would insist on driving her home tonight, or perhaps even walking with her if the weather was still warm, and she wouldn't pass up the opportunity to spend more time in his company for anything in the world. With a spring in her step, she locked the door behind her and began her journey across town.

It was colder out than she had initially thought it was. She rather wished that she'd brought a coat. Should she turn back? She was in a half-mind about it, but ultimately she decided to press on. If she turned back, it would mean less time spent with John, and that was something she was loath to give up. She would chance it. It might brighten up, or John might have something that she could borrow. It would look rather unorthodox, but they could make it work. It wasn't as if people would be paying too much attention to them when they had their own lives, and even if they did garner some strange looks, Anna wasn't one to care about that sort of thing. Everything would be fine.

She was wrong.

As she continued to trudge towards John's house, the sky got progressively darker and darker. She glanced up every few paces, chewing at her lip. God, she hoped that the weather wasn't going to break. The weatherman had promised them a good, warm weekend.

Little droplets began to fall from the sky.

Okay, so it wasn't the greatest of starts. But it wasn't raining too much. It was probably just a warning that it could do it if it pleased, but she doubted it was really going to rain. Really, it was so light that it could hardly be taken notice of. It would clear up in no time at all.

It started to come heavier.

Anna swore as she ducked her head. The droplets were much bigger now, seeming to come out of nowhere, splashing on the pavement like huge tear drops from the sky. She quickened her pace to a very brisk walk, crossing her fingers that it would get no worse than this, that it would blow over.

No such luck.

By the time she had made it to the end of John's street, the rain had started with a fierce vengeance. It practically bounced off the pavements, and it chilled her to the bone. Her hair was plastered to her face, cold droplets running down the back of her neck. Her jeans were clinging to her in that uncomfortable manner that they always did when they got soaked through, and she was sure that her top was practically translucent now. She broke into a run for the last few hundred meters, ducking her head low, her handbag swinging wildly off her arm as she splashed through the puddles, wincing as fresh waves of water were sent up her front.

She had a stitch by the time she reached John's front door. Reaching for the doorbell, she jabbed her finger on to it repeatedly as the rain continued to drown her.

It took John far too long to pull open the front door. He was wearing a decidedly displeased scowl.

"Do you mind—" he started, then stopped short. "Anna!"

"Yes, it's me," she panted. "Do you mind if we leave the pleasantries until after I've got over the threshold? I'm absolutely freezing out here, and I feel like a drowned rat."

He blinked, as if he was just now realising the state she was in, and the state of the weather. "Oh, yes, of course. Please, come in."

He stepped to one side, and she ducked past him. He slammed the door closed, and she stood there dripping onto his carpet.

"What on earth are you doing!?" he said when he turned around. "I thought you might have come in the car. And where's your coat?"

"I didn't bring one," she said. "I thought the day was going to be fine. That's why I didn't bring the car. I thought a walk would be nicer. But it started to rain cats and dogs on my way over."

"Right," he said, shaking his head. "First thing's first, we need to get you out of those wet clothes."

She arched an eyebrow playfully. "Really, Mr. Bates? And here was me, thinking that you were a gentleman."

"What?" He blinked at her for a moment before his cheeks flooded crimson. "Oh, Christ, no! No, I didn't mean it like that! I just meant that you shouldn't stay in those wet clothes because you might catch a cold and that won't do you any good. I didn't mean to imply that you and I would —that we'd—"

"John, it's fine!" she said, cutting him off and putting him out of his misery before he could work himself up further. "I'm only joking. I know you meant nothing of the sort. Besides, you know how I feel about the subject. When we're both ready, we'll see where things take us. There's no pressure on either of us. So calm down, all right?"

"All right," he said, a bit shame-facedly. "Sorry."

"Don't apologise," she said. "What you said was sensible. I just…I don't have anything to change into. It's not like I carry a spare change of clothes around with me, and I didn't expect the weather to turn like this."

John was frowning as if he was trying to solve a great puzzle. "I might have something you can borrow. A t-shirt or an old pullover or something. Go through to the bathroom and I'll go and see what I can find for you. I'll leave them outside the door for you."

"Okay," she agreed. She kicked off her muddy shoes and, rather conscious that she was leaving a wet trail all over his lovely carpet, she traipsed up the stairs to the bathroom that stood at the top. John followed behind her, veering off to the left where she knew his bedroom was situated. She closed the door behind her and peered at herself in the mirror.

Her worst fears were confirmed: she looked a bloody nightmare. Her makeup had run in the rain, leaving black splodges round her eyes and down her cheeks, as if she had been crying. Her hair had deepened to a dark gold instead of the usual blonde, plastered in a rather unattractive fashion to her face, limp and lifeless. Her top was just as she had feared it, practically see-through now. She could see the outline of her bra, a new one purchased just a few weeks ago that pushed up her breasts and made them seem fuller than they actually were. No wonder he had seemed so flustered. She was hardly making things easy for him.

Rolling her eyes at her reflection, she pulled her top over her head, unfastened her bra, and shimmied out of her jeans with great difficulty. She peeled off her socks too, sodden from her splashing through the puddles. Her knickers were also wet, but she did not dare to take those off. It wasn't exactly comfortable, but she would cope. The tiles were cold beneath her bare feet and, shivering, she padded over to the radiator, standing as close to it as possible so that she could soak up a little of the heat. While she waited, she allowed her gaze to travel around the rest of the room. She had only been in his bathroom a handful of times, and she had never really paid much attention to it before. She did so now, soaking up the shelf lined up neatly with his face wash and deodorant, the bottle of aftershave he had probably used that morning still sitting on the side. He had one of those scrunchie sponges suctioned to the bath tiles, and a Lynx shower gel sitting on the side of the shower. No wonder he always smelled so good. His razor and shaving foam sat next to the mirror. The whole room had the feel of a place which was usually very neat, but had been subjected to a rigorous regime that morning. The thought was rather endearing, especially when it meant that he had been making such meticulous effort for her.

There was a knock on the door.

"I've got you some clothes," came John's muffled voice through the wood. "They're probably not ideal, but they'll do you until we can get your clothes dry. I'm going back downstairs now. Get changed and we'll see what we can do, okay?"

"Yes," she called. "Thank you so much, John. You're an angel."

"You're welcome. I'll see you downstairs."

She listened to his footsteps receding before opening the bathroom door and snatching up the pile of clothes he had laid outside for her. She laid them across the wash basket for a closer inspection. John had provided her with a pair of socks, which she pulled on straight away because her feet were cold against the tiles of the bathroom floor. They were several sizes too big for her and came up to her knees but they were warm. Next was a thick pull-on kind of thing. It had a zip from the top of the chest to the neck. She knew that it would absolutely flog her—John was at the very least twice as wide and almost a foot taller than she was—but it was the best that she was going to get in the current circumstances, and it would certainly keep her warm. She brought it to her nose. God, it smelled like him too. He'd also provided her with a pair of boxer shorts. Her throat tightened. Oh, lord. Boxers. The most intimate item of clothing that he could have given her. It made sense, of course. The waist was elasticated, and while they would still be miles too big for her, she knew that his thinking was that hopefully the elastic would help them to stay up a little more than anything else would. Heart somewhere in the region of her throat, she pulled the silky material up her legs to her hips. They didn't feel exactly safe where they were, the material perilously loose, and she hoped that they wouldn't slide down too much as she walked.

At the same time…there was just something so sexy about wearing her boyfriend's clothes. She had daydreamed about it several times in the two years that she had known John Bates. Had imagined him being ever the gentleman, offering his jacket to her if she was ever cold. She had fantasised about pulling on something of his after a passionate night together, his eyes following her every move. Slowly, she let her gaze drift up to find herself in the mirror, and her heart skipped a beat. It wasn't exactly how she had thought this moment would come about, but she had to admit: it _definitely_ looked sexy. Not that _she_ looked particularly attractive, with the makeup stains and the limp hair. She bit her lip, watched her reflection do the same, then shook her head. God, she was silly.

She bent over the sink and washed her face as best she could without the aid of makeup remover. It wasn't perfect, but it looked better than it had done when she'd first entered the cottage. Satisfied that it was the best she was going to do, she opened the bathroom door and headed back downstairs.

John was in the sitting room when she poked her head in, standing by the window with his arms folded across his chest. From what she could see of his face in side profile, he appeared to be glowering at the outside weather as if he could scowl the clouds away and force the sun back out. As it was, the rain had not let up one single bit in the time that she had been in the bathroom. In fact, it seemed fiercer than ever; it thumped down against the windows as if the world had personally affronted it, and Anna could hear the wind whistling outside. It was crazy how quickly the weather changed in England.

John seemed not to have heard her entry, so she cleared her throat. He blinked, coming back to himself, then turned in her direction. His eyes widened.

"Oh," he said.

Anna glanced down at herself. "Do I look a terrible fright?"

He seemed to be struggling to find words, his gaze running up and down her form, his throat working. She waited patiently for him to regain his faculties, though her heart fluttered like a bird's wings beneath her breast. What did he think? Did he think she looked beautiful? Was the reality of her wearing his clothes affecting him as much as it had affected her when she had looked at herself in the bathroom mirror? She felt suddenly shy and self-conscious in his presence.

"You look beautiful," he whispered, barely loud enough to hear. "Wow."

She snorted, trying to lighten the mood. "I'm afraid I don't wear them as well as you."

"No, you wear them better," he murmured. "God, Anna."

Swallowing hard at the look in his eyes, she padded over to the window and stood beside him.

"What's it look like out there?" she said, more for something to say than any real need to clarify it for herself; she could see very well that there would be no let up any time soon.

He sighed. "I think this is set in for the day." Moodily, he glared at the droplets of water that were sliding down the window panes. "Bloody weathermen. That'll teach me for believing a word that they say. I knew the forecast was too good to be true."

"You and me both," she said. "Only a fool would come outside without a coat, and walk it across town at that."

He stirred at that. "Oh, yes, your clothes. What have you done with them?"

"Left them in the bathroom for now. Do you have a dryer?"

"Broke down last week," he said gloomily. "I haven't had the chance to go out and get a replacement yet. The heating's on, though. You could spread your clothes on the radiators to dry. It's not the fastest method, but it should do the trick."

"All right," she agreed. She was rather glad that his dryer had chosen this moment to act up. It meant that she would be able to wear his clothes for much longer than she would have otherwise. "Shall I fetch them?"

"The radiator in my bedroom is the biggest one," he said. "See how much of it you can get in there, and you can spread the rest over the other radiators if you need to. You might get them all on there."

She nodded, and went to retrieve her clothing. Scooping it up, her heart began to pound anew at the thought that she was going to be entering John's bedroom for the very first time. She had not yet seen the inside of his most personal space. She had always assumed that she would first see it when he took her in there to make love to her. Not like this.

Still, she rather liked it. It afforded her to catch a glimpse of the room that was solely his without him being in there with her; it offered her an intimate insight into his private life. She lingered in the doorway, soaking up the little details.

His bed was meticulously made, not a crease or wrinkle in sight, no doubt something instilled in him from his army days. There was a regimented neatness about the whole room, the décor minimalistic and uniformed, befitting a bachelor living alone. The only mess came from the assortment of books that were on the bedside table next to the side of the bed that she assumed that he slept on. John had a wide and varied taste in literature, from theoretical essays on life and death to poetry by Robert Burns. There were several large novels on there, a bookmark hanging out of one of them. The curtains were pulled back neatly, allowing the dull, rainy weather into the room, shadowing the dove grey walls.

There were a few pictures on a set of drawers. One was of him and his mother. There was one of him in his younger days, when he was fitter and more tanned, kitted out in his army uniform with Robert Crawley by his side. He certainly cut a handsome sight. His face was leaner and had more puppy-like, innocent features, but there was something about the eyes that was so attractive. They belied his youthful appearance, held a devil-may-care look that she was sure had attracted many girls in his time.

His most recent addition, and the one that stood most prominently in his room, was the one that they had recently had taken together. Anna's heart jumped to see it. He had said that he would get it framed, but she hadn't thought to ask him about it again, half-expecting that he was only saying it to flatter her. Apparently she had got that all wrong.

She stuffed her clothes on the radiator hastily, barely taking the time to straighten them out properly for maximum drying, and moved back over to the dresser so she could take a closer look at the picture. She picked it up, running her thumb along the frame. It was perfect.

It had been taken in York, with the majestic Cathedral angled into the background, providing a breath-taking backdrop. John was not one for selfies, but he had relented when she had told him that she wanted a momentum of the day. She had taken the picture, with John snugged close at her back, his arms around her waist. The vast discrepancy in their heights made her heart soar every time.

She had a companion picture as the lock screen on her phone; when she had taken that picture, John had taken her completely by surprise by leaning around and pressing a kiss to her cheek. Her finger had stumbled over the capture button almost of its own volition, and it had forever captured that perfect moment, the joy on each of their faces palpable for everyone to see. It would take a lot for her to change that.

Shaking her head, she replaced the photo. She had been long enough. John would wonder what on earth she was doing. Hitching his boxers more securely around her once more, she headed back downstairs. She found John in the same spot.

"You know, glowering like that isn't going to change anything," she quipped. "You might as well admit defeat."

He sighed. "I know. I'm just so annoyed."

"Why? You can't control the weather."

"But I had such plans for us. A nice picnic, a stroll round the park, a boat out on the lake, feeding the ducks…"

It did sound very romantic, very them. But Anna shrugged, moving to wrap her arms around his waist.

"It's not your fault," she reiterated. "Besides, I think we can have a perfectly good time right here. What do you say to an indoor picnic?"

He quirked an eyebrow at her. "…An indoor picnic?"

"Yes. Surely you've had one of those before. Mum always used to do them for me and my sister when it was raining outside. We'd sit in the living room on a tablecloth on the floor, watching kids' shows while we ate. They were some of my happiest memories. Why don't we recreate that now? We could move the coffee table out of the way and put a film on. What's the matter?"

John was staring at her in a very funny way. He shook his head, as if he had heard something that he couldn't quite believe.

"You, Anna Smith," he rasped, "are the silver lining to every single one of my clouds. I'm just wondering what the hell I did to deserve you."

"You were you," she said simply. "So, what do you say?"

"I say that you have very good ideas," he growled. "Let's do it."

She was glad to see that her suggestion had cheered him up a little. She hated that he was always so hard on himself, even when things were beyond his control. It was clear to her that Vera had screwed with his self-esteem to a huge degree, and whatever faults he might have had during the failed marriage, he had come out of it more psychologically scarred than she had. It made her all the more determined to treasure him, to show him that love didn't have to be bitter and cruel.

"You go and get the picnic," she said. "I'll choose a film."

"Let's move the coffee table out of the way first," he said. "Then you can. I'll not have you trying to push it on your own."

"I'm not a weakling, you know," she grinned. "I might be small but I'll have you know that I'm surprisingly strong."

"I never said you weren't," he said. "But I wouldn't be much of a gentleman if I didn't help you."

"You don't have to be a gentleman _all_ of the time," she said.

He blinked at her. "Why would I not be?"

She lowered her lashes. "Well, there might be times that I rather appreciate being dominated by a big, strong man."

The silence stretched on between them for a few moments. It was clear from the colour of John's face that he understood her meaning.

"Oh," he managed.

"Does that shock you?"

"No," he said quickly. "No, of course not."

"I don't mean for anything to happen today or this week or even this month. But I don't want you to be afraid of initiating anything, either. I'm ready whenever you are."

John swallowed hard. "Okay."

She sensed that he was on the brink of flight. That would do no good for either of them. So she shook her head and returned to the business at hand. "Right, give me a hand with this coffee table, then."

They worked together to clear it out of the way, and Anna found something for them to watch on the television while John fetched the picnic basket. He brought the tablecloth in with him too, and Anna smoothed it out across the carpet, settling herself down on top of it.

"Well, come and join me," she said. He handed her the picnic basket, and she busied herself with looking through the contents whilst he lowered himself to the floor with some difficulty. When he was seated, his right leg splayed uncomfortably in front of him, she handed the basket back to him.

"Why don't you do the honours?" she said. "This was your idea, after all."

"The indoor part was _yours_ ," he argued, but he seemed more than happy to play the butler, laying out the spread that he had put together in front of them. And what a spread it was. Sandwiches of various fillings, containers of crisps, fruit, warm sausage rolls wrapped in foil, mini scotch eggs, pork pies, hot chicken legs, chocolate…there was far more than she was sure that they would be able to eat, but it all looked so good that it made her mouth water and her stomach growl. He'd brought in glasses to accompany their lemonade. He poured them a drink and held up a glass.

"How about a toast?" he said.

"All right," she said. She picked her glass up and clinked it against his, holding his gaze steadily. "To us."

"To us," he echoed, his eyes shimmering.

They took a sip each, then set them down.

"Right," said Anna. "Where do we start?"

It was the most wonderful picnic that she had ever had. The effort that John had put into the spread simply took her breath away. It was clear that he had put a great deal of thought into what he had done, and knowing that he had done it for her made it all the sweeter. He might have planned for it differently, likely at a romantic picnic spot where they could hear the birds singing in the trees, the ducks quacking in the lake, and the screams of happy children as they frolicked, but Anna thought that this set up was just as perfect. What was better than spending the time alone with the man that she was in love with? There could be no interruptions. It was just the two of them. The telly provided a gentle hum of background noise as they made their way through the spoils, as they talked and laughed and offered each other bites of whatever they were having.

"Here," said Anna, picking up a piece of strawberry from one of the containers. "Try this."

"I do know what a strawberry tastes like, Anna," John said, amusement in his tone.

She rolled her eyes. "Well, yes, I know _that_. But humour me, please."

He smirked at her, that delicious one that she always felt right in her bloodstream, and leaned forward dutifully. She tilted the piece of fruit just above his head, so he had to lean up slightly to take hold of it. His lips closed around it, brushing just slightly against her fingers as he brought it into his mouth, and her stomach jolted. John chewed, his eyes closed, then swallowed.

"Delicious," he announced. "They're really sweet."

Juice trickled down her index finger. Without thinking too much about it, she bought it to her mouth to lick it off.

She caught John's eye, and caught her breath.

His eyes had gone as dark as kindling coal, lit with a spark that was both dangerous and exciting. She felt it right in the pit of her stomach. Abruptly, she popped her finger out of her mouth.

"You've still got juice on your hands," he said, and his voice was unlike anything she had ever heard before. It was low and growling, a hoarse grating sound, as if he had only just remembered that he had the ability to speak.

"So I have," she managed. Self-consciously, she began to reach out for a napkin, but his fingers closed around her wrist.

"Allow me," he said.

The air left the room.

Anna gazed in a kind of hypnotised wonder up at him. She could hardly breathe. Every nerve in her body was screaming. They were moving closer to something undefinable, and she would be a fool to stop it now. They were on the brink of ecstasy, she could feel it in the very blood that ran through her veins.

There was nothing she wanted more.

She nodded. To speak would be to break the spell. John brought her hand up to his mouth. She quivered as she felt his hot breath on her digits.

And then the silk of his tongue was running across her, and she almost exploded. It felt unlike anything else she had ever known. Sensual. Sexual. Saucy. He never took his eyes from her as he lapped up every trace of sticky fruit juice left behind. When he sucked them a little further into his mouth, it was the end.

The catalyst.

Before she even knew what she was doing, Anna had pulled her hand free and lurched forward to crush her mouth against his. He made a startled sound in the back of his throat, but she paid him no mind, and soon his hand was on her shoulder, drawing her closer to him. She kissed him hungrily, tasting an explosion of different flavours on him, and it only spurred her on further. She clambered over the picnic cloth towards him so that she could be closer. Perhaps even on his lap. That would give her the perfect vantage point to keep kissing him.

As she moved, however, her knee came into contact with something cold and hard, and it hit the floor with a dull thunk. There was a dull fizzing sound and something cold and wet against her. She yelped, scrabbling backwards. She had knocked over one of the glasses filled with pop.

"Bloody hell," she said.

It seemed to have broken the moment that had been building up between them. John reached for some kitchen roll and began to mop up the copious excess moisture, a look of relief on his face, as if he had just been saved from the brink. Anna withdrew back to the floor, bringing her knees up to her chest and wrapping her arms around them. Why had she been so clumsy? They had been getting somewhere, she was sure of it…

"I'm sorry," she said.

"No harm done," John was quick to reassure her, though he wouldn't quite meet her eye. "Have you had enough to eat?"

"Yes."

"Then I should clear this lot up."

"Let me help you."

"No, that's fine. You sit there on the sofa and let me do it. I won' be long."

Before she could offer another protestation, he had gathered a few of the containers up, struggled with great difficulty to his feet, and disappeared into the kitchen. More slowly, Anna pulled herself up and sat herself on the edge of the sofa, cursing herself. She'd been so silly. She had pushed too hard, and now she had set them back. She watched in silence as John cleared away their things, unable to find any words. John, for his part, couldn't seem to either. She was sure that he was dawdling in the kitchen longer than he needed to to avoid coming back to her.

But eventually he did, perching himself on the sofa beside her and trying for a smile.

"Right," he said, and she could tell that he was deliberately trying to keep his tone jovial. "What about finding something more engrossing to watch, Miss Smith?"

She nodded and passed the remote over to him. He took it and flicked through the channels until they settled on a movie. In truth, it was barely something that she was interested in. Her mind kept drifting back to what had just happened between them. Now the walls had gone back up, and she would have to work to clamber over them once more.

She was determined to do it. She wouldn't let such a trivial thing ruin their time together. She'd always known that being in a relationship with John would take a little time to reach an even keel, for he had spent so many years of his life thinking that he was unworthy that now he believed it, and it would take him a long time to think any different.

With a sigh, she pulled the oversized jumper over her hands and leaned to the left. John jumped a little when she made contact with him, but he seemed to take comfort from the fact that she made no move to resume their kissing. She kept her gaze fixed determinedly on the television, and bit by bit she felt him relax against her. It gave her the confidence to shuffle further towards him until she had her head pillowed against his chest, and his arm moved down to wrap around her, keeping her close to him. That was a good sign.

They sat in silence for a long time, letting the movie play on. Anna was barely paying it any attention. It wasn't something that she would normally have picked anyway, and that gave her the chance to drift off on her own thoughts, feeling the strong rise and fall of John's chest, hearing his heartbeat pulsing in her ear reassuringly.

"I'm sorry," John offered at last.

Anna pushed up from him just enough so that she could look into his face. "Sorry? What for?"

"For spoiling things earlier."

"You didn't spoil anything," she told him.

He didn't look convinced. "But I did, didn't I? We were kissing, but I got spooked."

"John, really, it's fine. I wish you'd stop worrying over every little detail."

"I just don't want you to get frustrated with me."

She bumped her shoulder against his gently. "I'd get _more_ frustrated if you didn't believe what I say. I've got all the time in the world for you."

"But you're not going to wait forever, are you?" he said miserably.

"I would. I'll have you know that I am a very patient woman."

"Patient or not, it's not fair to ask you to wait forever. And I'm bloody scared that you'll get fed up of me. I just…I can't seem to find the ability to screw my courage up." He took a deep breath. It seemed, at last, they were finally getting there. This was the most open he had ever been on the subject, and she willed it to continue. It was not healthy for him to bottle up all of his feelings all of the time. They needed to get them out there and talk about this properly. It was the only way to build a proper relationship.

"John, look at me," she said softly.

He did so, and she reached up to cup his cheek in the palm of her hand.

"Please believe me when I say that. I always say what I mean. I would never lie to you about anything. Physical intimacy is nice, yes. I'm not going to pretend it isn't. But it's not the be all and end all either. We'll get there when you're comfortable, no matter how soon or far away that is. There's not a rule book when it comes to this. I'll be here waiting."

John looked at her for a few seconds, then blurted, as if he couldn't stop himself, "It's not that I don't want to. I do, Anna. God, I'd have to be insane not to want to. But I'm terrified because I'm so much less than you deserve, and I don't want to be a disappointment to you."

"You could never be a disappointment to me," she reassured him.

"You say that now. But you haven't seen me."

"I don't need to. I know I'll like what I see."

"But you don't, do you? Clothes hide so much. You don't know what my chest looks like, or what my stomach looks like, or what my knee looks like…"

"All right, stop right there," she interrupted him. "I'm not delusional. I know that you're not going to be like some gym buff. And you know what? I don't care. If I wanted someone with huge pecs and big muscles and a rock hard stomach, I would have gone for them. I don't want that. I want _you_. All of you. The parts of you that you hate are the parts of you that I love most. I _love_ your comforting bulk, John. It makes me feel safe. As for your knee…that's the most ridiculous thing that I've ever heard. You got injured saving someone's life, John. It doesn't get more heroic than that. I'm not a meek little girl who's going to faint at the sight of it, or not be able to stop staring at it. It's a part of you. I'm not afraid of scars. Yours might be visible, but everyone has them, whether you can see them or not. I don't want that to ever be an issue. It's going to take you some time to get your head around it, I know that and I accept it, but I don't want you to let it get into your head like that anymore."

"Easier said than done," he joked.

She nudged him. "Well, just remember that if you ever need reassuring again, I am here to provide it."

He offered her a tired smile. "Thank you, Anna. I mean it. Truly. I really don't deserve you."

"And there you go again," she scolded. "You _do_ deserve me, John. One day I'll make you see that. Now please, stop worrying. Let's just enjoy the rest of this film, all right?"

He nodded, and she settled against him once more. She sensed that finally, this time, he was at peace. She rested her head back against his chest and closed her eyes, content to let the movie's audio wash over her as she concentrated on the sensation of being in his arms. He was holding her close to him now, a complete contrast to earlier. She was so, so glad about that.

She was jolted by John shifting, and she blinked open her eyes quickly. John's chuckle was low in her ear.

"You enjoyed that, then?" he said.

"Yes," she said. "It was very…interesting."

"You fell asleep, didn't you?" He sounded amused, and her cheeks pinked.

"Maybe," she said. "It wasn't the best thing that I've ever seen."

"I wasn't that interested in it, either, if I'm honest."

"You should have turned it off."

"I could have. But I was enjoying holding you far too much to disturb you."

She looked up into his eyes. There were specks of fear there, she could see them, but there was also something else. A renewed determination. Her heart fluttered.

"I see," she managed. "Well, that's very nice to hear."

"Is it?"

"You know it is. In fact, there's only one thing that would be nicer than that."

"What's that, then?"

Anna pushed away from him completely, never taking her gaze away from his. She had to give him the opportunity to run if he wanted to.

The nerves were still there, but he didn't move. It was a step forward.

It was time to take another.

"This," she whispered and, so very slowly, closed the gap between them. She was determined to give him enough time to pull away if he wanted to.

He didn't move.

Their mouths met softly then, moving with a gentle tenderness that she had never experienced before. She wound her arm around his neck and kissed him deeper, her body tingling as she encouraged his mouth to move. He had his arm around her properly now, his fingers dipping beneath the jumper to touch the warm, sensitive skin of her hip. She quivered in anticipation. That touch felt so, so right against her bare skin. She wanted him so desperately to touch her elsewhere, too. She was burning up with how much she wanted him.

Baby steps, she reminded herself. They had to take baby steps. She could enjoy this. Enjoy the feeling of his calloused fingers on her bare skin. Enjoy the taste of strawberries on his tongue. Enjoy the careful way he kissed her, like she was porcelain. One day, she would encourage him to stop treating her like she was breakable. For today, she would simply enjoy the feeling of being held up like a princess.

At last, with a final, full kiss to her lower lip, John pulled away from her. His eyes were closed, and his cheeks were a wonderful shade of pink.

"God, Anna," he whispered. "What you make me feel."

"What?" she murmured, brushing her lips against his again for good measure. He groaned breathlessly.

"So much," he said. "You make me feel so, so much, my darling."

"Good," she said. "Now stop talking and kiss me again."

He agreed most enthusiastically.

As far as Anna was concerned, this was perfection. It had been a very, very long time since she had last engaged in a good snogging session with someone on the couch. Even in their times together before, despite the wandering hands, John had always been careful not to let things get too far for fear of them both losing control. Now…now there was something different. His hand was travelling further up her back beneath the jumper. He paused when he realised that she wasn't wearing a bra, his mouth falling away from hers. She was pleased to see the desirous shock on his face.

"Christ," he said hoarsely. "Are you trying to kill me?"

"Of course not. But I'm not prepared to sit in a wet bra. I've put up with the knickers. A bra is out of the question."

He brought his hand up a little higher, so that his thumb brushed the swell of her left breast. Her breathing started to come faster. She looked up into his eyes, trying to gauge what he was feeling. The last thing she wanted him to do was to force himself into something that he didn't want. That would do neither of them any good in the long run.

"John?" she said.

"Shh," he said, and although his voice trembled, his touch was sure. "Let me just…let me just get used to you. Please."

Heart somewhere in the region of her throat, she nodded, her eyelids fluttering of their own accord as he bent his head to her neck and feathered kisses there, his hand moving up to touch her breast properly while his other moved down to rest over her boxer-clad backside. She tried to control the cadence of her breathing, but it was almost impossible. The way he was touching her…it was lighting something within her. A flame nurtured to life. She shifted against him, trying to push closer, and came into contact with something hard. They both froze. John wore an expression of embarrassment on his face.

"I'm sorry," he said hoarsely.

"How many times do I have to tell you!?" she said. "You shouldn't be sorry for that. It lets me know that you really do want me."

He gave a dry chuckle. "I want you so much that it hurts, Anna."

"Then let it be. If you want me, let it happen. There's no one here to judge us. It's just you and me. I've told you how I feel. You just have to trust me." She took a deep breath and placed her palm on his chest. "I've said that I'll wait for you to be ready, and I truly mean that from the bottom of my heart. But if there's something you want now, you shouldn't be ashamed of it or try to hide it. We've got all day to do whatever you want."

"Whatever I want?" he echoed dimly.

"Whatever you want," she said, hoping that her voice was full of the conviction that would entice him rather than scare him away. It would seem that she was lucky; with a whimper, he brought her back to him to resume kissing, and his hands resumed their exploration of her body. She was more than happy to let him, the muscles in her tummy tightening to an almost unbearable level as he touched her breasts so softly. This went on for several more minutes, until he pulled away from her, his eyes like molten chocolate as he looked at her. His throat worked for several moments until he found the words.

Eventually, he said, "I want you, Anna."

She released her breath in a long whoosh. "Then have me, John."

He was trembling as he moved up to cup her face, smoothing his thumb under her eye. There was a miasma of uncertainty in his gaze. She had to dispel that. She pushed herself closer, until she was sitting over the part of him that let her know just how much he wanted her. He moaned a little, his head falling back against the arm of the sofa.

"I want you too," she breathed. "Do you want to move things upstairs?"

He stared at her for a moment before nodding almost imperceptibly; her legs shook as she shuffled backwards and stood before him, waiting for him to get up too. He did so, stretching to his full height, so far above her. She craned her neck up and he stooped low down to kiss her again, a tangle of tongues and lips. She broke away from him, desperate to keep up her reassurances despite the ache now so low within her body.

"We'll take things slowly," she said. "And if you want to stop at any point, we can, all right?"

He chuckled hoarsely. "You sound like a man reassuring a virgin."

She laughed too, and it diffused some of the tension that had been mounting. She pressed herself into him, and he wrapped his arms around her.

"I just don't want you to do something that you'll regret," she said, muffling her words against his chest.

"I could never regret sleeping with you, Anna," he said at once.

"I know. I just don't want to push you into something that you're not ready for, when you've opened yourself to me."

"I am ready for it. I was just frightened of pushing for it. I want us to take that next step. I think it's time."

She nodded, and together they headed for the door. Every few steps they stopped to exchange kisses, giving them both time to grow into what they were doing. Anna could feel the boxers sliding further down with every step she took upstairs, and she gave a little huff od exasperation, moving to hitch them back up.

"These are a nightmare," she complained.

John's gaze was scorching. "Well, you won't have to put up with them for too much longer."

The implicit promise of what was coming made her go warm all over. They reached the top of the stairs. He took her hand, and led her towards his bedroom. Anna's heart began to pound anew. This time, she was going in there for the purpose she had always wanted. He closed the door behind them and she looked up into his face one more time.

"Are you sure?" she said, giving him another chance to back down if he wanted to.

His gaze never wavered. "I am."

He closed the gap between them and took her into his arms once more. And not one of his actions gave her any reason to doubt his sincerity.

* * *

They lay together in the aftermath. Anna felt pleasantly hot and sticky, and she gave a joyful little giggle, rolling onto her side so that she could see him properly. Her eyes drifted over him, over the thick hair that dominated his chest, the chest that had proven to be such a turn on.

Now, in the afterglow, she felt lazy and languid with pleasure. She was thankful that they had navigated the last hurdle together, and that it had proven to be as good as she had always hoped it would be.

There had been a few nerves, of course, especially on his behalf. Even she had been a little bit shy of stripping down in front of him, though nothing in his demeanour portrayed anything but ardent desire for every part of her. She had made sure that she had given him the same in return, barely giving his knee a second glance, running her hands all over the rest of him, documenting how arousing she found him. That, finally, seemed to have laid the last ghost to rest.

He gave a little huff now, pushing himself up into a reluctant sitting position. She watched him lazily, the strong, delicious muscles in his back contorting as he pushed himself out of bed to go and clean up. She sank back against the pillows, dreamily waiting for him to return to her. When he did, she reached out and touched his arm.

"Well, that was good," she said.

"I should hope so," John said gruffly. "I'm not sure my ego would be able to take it otherwise."

"I told you that you had absolutely nothing to worry about," she said. "I knew you'd be a wonderful lover. That's the next lesson you need to learn, Mr. Bates: I'm always right."

He chuckled, full-throated and joyous. "I'll bear that in mind next time. Just…promise me that you won't be too smug with it. I am but a foolish old man."

"John," she scolded him. "You're not old. Although I might grant you foolish. I can't promise that I'll be gracious with my rightness, either."

"I should have expected as much," he sighed. "Can you promise me something else instead?"

"That depends entirely on what it is."

"Promise me you'll wear that getup for me again one day."

Her mouth went dry. "Excuse me? Your boxers and that jumper?"

He nodded. "God, you have no idea how sexy you looked in that. It's so true when men say that there's absolutely nothing on earth hotter than their girlfriends wearing their oversized clothes."

Anna arched her eyebrow. "But I looked ridiculous. The jumper went almost down to my knees, for God's sake, and the boxers wouldn't stay up."

"And that's not something to get a boyfriend hot under the collar?" he said. "I beg to differ."

Anna had no reply to that. She supposed it was right. For one strange reason or another, men _did_ seem to like seeing their women wearing their clothes. Just another mystery of the male population that she would never be able to work out.

But, if she was truly honest with herself, she found it rather hot too. Who wouldn't want to see the look of utter worship and lust on their man's face as they stood before them wearing oversized clothes? If John wanted her to wear them again for him some time, who was she to argue? Especially when it had led to sex as fantastic as what they had just had?

"All right," she said. "You're on."

He swallowed hard. "And…and I want you to keep the jumper. It's an old one, I won't miss it. But I like the idea of you having it with you to keep you warm when we're apart."

How was it that he could go from thinking impious thoughts to such romantic ones in less than two seconds? Anna shuffled closer, draping herself over his body as she tucked her head under his chin. His arm came up around her back, holding her closer to his side. She enjoyed the feel of his chest hair between her fingers as she ran her fingers down to his belly and back again.

"All right," she whispered. "I think you have yourself a deal."

He ran his fingers up and down her back. "I'm exhausted."

"So sleep for a while."

"Should we set an alarm? That way we can get up for tea."

"If you want. My phone's downstairs in my bag, though, so if you want me to set it you'll have to go and fetch it."

"All right." Reluctantly, he kissed her head and she let him slip out from under her. He returned only a minute later, clutching her phone in his hands. She took it from him, set the alarm, and threw it onto the bedside table. John had clambered back into bed, and she vined herself around him once more.

She drifted to the rise and fall of his chest.

* * *

She was woken by the sound of a harsh buzzing. Coming back to herself so suddenly was disorientating, and it took her several seconds to place where the sound was coming from.

From the bedside table where she had placed her phone.

They must have moved places in their slumber. It appeared that she had rolled away from him, and he had followed her, wrapping himself up around her. John was still tucked against her now, pressed tight to her body, and it was with great difficulty that she wriggled free just enough to make a grab for her phone. She squinted at the caller ID. Mary. She swiped her finger across the green phone to accept the call and brought it to her ear.

"'Lo?" she said.

"Anna, there you are! What took you so long?"

"I'm sorry I don't have my phone tied to me," she answered grumpily.

"Well, you should. This is important. I need someone to vent at."

"Why, what's happened?"

"You'll never believe what happened to me. Sybil dumped me!"

"What?" Anna said tiredly.

"I know!" Mary continued, oblivious. "She's gone off with some bloke she met this afternoon! His name is Tom Branson, apparently. He was doing some valeting when we arrived. He took the car off us and parked it round the back while we went to check in. I didn't really like the look of him. A bit rough around the edges. And Irish. You know what terrible flirts they can be. I never thought Sybil would fall for someone like that, but she was completely swept away with him, apparently. She went outside to explore some of the grounds this afternoon while I went to have a massage, and they got talking outside. He asked her out for a drink this evening, and you know how impulsive Sybil can be. She said yes and that's that. Which has left me all alone in my room at six in the evening! I can't believe that I'm actually saying this out loud, but I think I would almost have been better off bringing Edith with me. At least I would have been confident that she was going to dump me like yesterday's dinner for a man. Mostly because Edith couldn't get a man if she threw herself at him."

"Mary, don't be so unkind," Anna scolded her. "Of course she could."

"I forgot I was talking to the champion of the underdogs. Speaking of which, did you even get to see John in the end with that awful weather?"

"Yes, I did," she said.

"And? What are you up to now?"

"Well, I _was_ sleeping before you so rudely interrupted me."

Mary made a disbelieving sound in the back of her throat. "You were sleeping? What about John?"

Anna felt him at her back, so ruggedly masculine. "Sleeping too."

"God, what are you? A hundred? Should I buy you matching pipes and slippers for Christmas this year?"

Always the tone of sarcasm, was Mary. Anna rolled her eyes even though her friend couldn't see her. "Is it a crime to take a nap?"

"It is at six o'clock in the evening."

"I've had a tiring day."

"Doing what? You haven't been out, not with the weather that's been reported back home."

Anna glanced over her shoulder, at the man slumbering beside her. She couldn't stop her involuntary smile. For all of his claims that he was a light sleeper, he was certainly sleeping heavily now. Dare she credit herself with that? God, he really was so ridiculously beautiful lying there like that, the quilt halfway down his chest, giving her a very generous view of that gorgeously hairy expanse of flesh which she had a very real urge to run her hands down—

"Anna? Hello? Are you still there?"

Mary's voice interrupted her daydream. She shook herself, bringing herself back to the conversation at hand. "There are plenty of things that could have tired us out, thank you very much."

Mary snickered. "Like what? Doing the Times crossword? Reading a book?"

"Having very enthusiastic and rigorous sex?" she shot back, taking great satisfaction from the dull clunk she heard; Mary must have dropped her phone.

"Wait, _what_?" came her voice two seconds later, sounding aghast. "You can't be serious!"

"Deadly serious," she responded cheerfully. "So I'm sure you can forgive us for being a little tired."

"But this is insane! You've been dancing around each other for weeks! I almost thought you'd have a celibate relationship!"

Anna rolled her eyes again. Honestly, just because they hadn't jumped into bed together at the first opportunity. Besides, how was dating someone for a couple of months and not shagging them in that time constituting as it never happening? Today's society…

She was jerked from her thoughts again by Mary's barrage of questions. "So, how was it? Is he good? How long did it last? Does he have some big tools?"

"I didn't think you'd want to know the answers to those kinds of questions," Anna said, deliberately ignoring them. "You know, what with John practically being a paternal figure to you."

"Well, yeah, there is that. But I think I can stomach it for the sake of my friend finally getting some after a woefully long time. So come on, spill."

Anna giggled, but before she could open her mouth to begin to find the words to describe just how good John Bates was with his body, she was startled by the feeling of a hand covering hers over the phone. She whipped her head around to find John sitting up on his elbow, hair sexily tousled every which way, still looking flushed with love's making.

"John!" she said. "I thought you were asleep!"

"Light sleeper," he reminded her with a smirk, as if he'd known the thoughts on her mind earlier. "I don't think anyone could sleep through their partner's loud phone conversation."

She blushed. She'd been trying to keep her voice down, but evidently she hadn't succeeded. Before she could open her mouth to apologise, John had slipped her phone out of her hand and brought it to his ear.

"Hello, Mary," he said, his voice all gravel that affected Anna in ways that she couldn't say. "I'm sorry to intrude like this, but Anna isn't available to chat right now. You're going to have to wait until you see her on Monday before you carry on your conversation."

"Now hang on a minute!" she heard Mary say, the indignation not lost despite the now tinny quality of her voice. "You can jolly well wait, Bates. She's my best friend and I'm not done questioning her until I say so!"

"I'm going to hang up now," said John, as if he hadn't heard her.

"Don't you bloody dare—!"

John hit the _End Call_ button, cutting her off mid-tirade. Anna giggled, rolling fully onto her back.

"She's never going to forgive you for that, you know," she told him, reaching out to take her phone back from him. "She'll swear revenge on you somehow."

"It's a chance I'm willing to take" he said. "Bloody things."

As if to cement his point, the phone began to vibrate again. Anna grinned, looking down at the Caller ID. Mary again. She rejected the call, but barely two seconds later it started up again. That was one thing to be said about Mary: she never gave up on something once she'd scented blood.

"Turn it off," John groaned, pulling her back against him. "It's spoiling the mood."

"What mood is that?" she asked, loving it when he pulled her hips pointedly in the direction of the lower half. It seemed that Mr. Bates was very much awake. It soothed her heart to see the transformation in his mood now that they had got over the hurdle of their first time. She'd always known that he just needed the confidence to grow into it, and her response last time must have given it to him in spades.

The phone vibrated again.

"Bloody _hell_ ," said John as she descended into peals of giggles, "she doesn't give up easily, does she?"

"That's Mary for you," she said. "You ought to know that by now."

"No wonder Robert's head is always in a spin where his daughters are concerned," he said.

Anna had a feeling that John would be just as bemused if he ever had daughters of his own. She did not dare voice that just yet—talk of children was far too soon—but the image lingered nevertheless, and it was one that made her smile. John would be so, so perfect with a little girl.

"What are you smiling about?" he murmured into her neck.

"Nothing," she said quickly.

"So I should hope," he said, then swore as the phone vibrated yet again. "Good God, she's like a bloody Rottweiler. Turn it off, I'm begging you."

"I've got an even better idea," Anna said. "Here, wait a minute."

She pushed him away enough so that she could sit up, scrolling through her phone settings and finding silent mode. Then, once that was done, she accessed her voice mailing service, listened to the instructions, and put on her best telephone voice.

"Good evening. You have reached Anna Smith. Unfortunately, I am unable to take your call right now, Mary Crawley, because I am having the most fantastic sex with my boyfriend. Don't leave a message because I won't be able to respond all weekend. Have fun."

She ended the message decisively, confirmed it was the one she wanted to leave, and threw her phone on to the bedside table. She turned to find John looking at her with a raised eyebrow, a pink blush in his cheeks.

"What?" she said.

He shook his head. "Nothing. Just that I'm beginning to see what a naughty girl you are."

She sent him a cocky grin. "Do you like it?"

"I love it," he murmured, and pulled her tight to him. She squealed as he rolled her onto her back, and that was the last thing that they exchanged for some time to come.

* * *

Monday morning dawned far too soon for Anna's liking. She had never wanted the weekend to end.

What a perfect weekend it had been. In the heady throes of first love, they had barely left the bedroom. Their idea of cleaning up had been to share showers that were decidedly less than innocent. Their meals had consisted of takeaway because they were far too lazy to waste time with cooking when they could be doing something else entirely more pleasant. Anna had loved falling asleep wrapped around John's body, safe in the knowledge that he would be there when she woke. It had taken very little persuasion on John's behalf for them to head over to her flat so that they could pick up some essentials for her, and also things for work on Monday so they could head in together.

It signified the end of their golden weekend. Tonight, Anna would either cadge a lift home with her best friend, or John would drop her there himself, and they would be back to seeing each other for a snatched few hours until the weekend rolled around again. It was not a prospect she was relishing.

At least she had John's jumper tucked away in her bag. She would slip into it tonight and be engulfed in John's smell. It would bring her some peace and comfort until she could be back in his arms properly. And, once she had washed it, she would make him wear it again so that she could take his scent back home with her.

They pulled into the onsite carpark slightly later than they had intended. Anna had wanted to make the most of their last moments together, and they had got rather carried away in the process. John, usually famous for his timekeeping, had been a more than enthusiastic participant.

John switched off the ignition and leaned back in his seat. Anna followed suit, reaching across the gearbox to put her hand on his knee. He turned to her with a slightly melancholic smile on his face.

"it's silly, isn't it?" he uttered. "I don't want to say goodbye and spell the end of what's been a perfect weekend."

"Neither do I," she said. "I've loved every minute of it."

He let go of the steering wheel so that he could slip his hand into hers.

"I don't know why I feel like this," he said. "I mean, I'll see you at break and at dinner. We're not going to be parted for very long. I suppose I just feel that after all the anxiety I was feeling about the two of us becoming intimate, to have finally got over that only to lose you so soon afterwards…"

"You know that I'm not going to change my opinion on what we did," she said, squeezing his hand. "I enjoyed it. I want as many repeat performances as we can manage."

He grinned at her. "Well, Miss Smith, I'm sure that can be arranged. It's just a shame that you have to spend tonight with Mary."

"I know," she sighed. "But she'll have my guts for garters if I dare to bail on her when I haven't seen her all weekend. Especially with those very angry messages she left on Saturday night."

John snorted. "They did provide a little bit of comedy relief. My favourite was the fourth one. You can't say that she isn't imaginative when it comes to her revenge plots. Very rude of her, though. You were quite specific in your answerphone message about what you were doing. You'd have thought that she would have respected your privacy."

"Mary doesn't know the meaning of the words, especially when gossip is involved. I'll have all on keeping tight-lipped about it all today. She'll be worse than a crooked spy torturing the enemy for key information."

"I don't envy you. In fact I'm rather anxious about the report that I'm going to get."

"You have absolutely nothing to be worried about on that score. I'll keep the intimate details to myself, but I'll let her know in no uncertain terms that you are a very good lover. _Very_ good. Now, come on, we've lingered long enough as it is. People will start to wonder."

"They'll wonder anyway if they see you getting out of my car," said John.

"Like I really care. We're in a relationship. We can arrive together if we want. Sod what anyone else thinks."

John smiled as he pushed open the driver's door. "You know, I've said it a hundred times before, but I'll say it again: I'm bloody lucky to have somehow done something to attract a wonder like you, Anna Smith."

"Oh, be off with you," she said, smiling.

She was waiting while John locked the door when a car honked. She looked up to see Robert's Jaguar cruising into the office. He pulled into a space beside them and leapt out.

"Hello, my dear fellow!" he said cheerfully, clicking a button on his keys to make his car smoothly lock itself. He noticed Anna belatedly. "And you, Anna!"

"Hello, Robert," Anna said politely. John fell into step beside her as they started to cross the carpark to the front of the building. Robert jogged at her other side.

"How nice of you to come outside to greet this grumpy old git," he panted. "You've managed the impossible. You've put a smile on his face before lunchtime."

Anna glanced sideways at John, not quite sure whether Robert was jesting or not. John shook his head slightly. Oh. That had to mean that he wasn't jesting. He was just so clueless that he apparently couldn't connect the dots as to why they were already together so early in the morning, with her own little rundown car nowhere in sight.

Before either of them could work out what they wanted to say, however, they were interrupted by a human whirlwind. Oh, God, that was all she needed right now. Mary had been waiting for them in the lobby, and the way that she barrelled towards them now left Anna in no uncertain terms that she was about to get exactly what she wanted.

"Hello!" Robert said cheerfully to his eldest daughter.

"Can't stop to chat now, Papa," Mary said breezily, brushing him off. "I need a word with Anna."

"You mean you can't spare one minute with your poor old papa while he asks you about your weekend away with Sybil?" he said, obviously hurt.

Anna silently willed Robert to conquer, but Mary was unmoved. "That's right. Anna had a most interesting weekend, and I need all of the details from her. Come on, Anna. We've time for a cup of tea before work if we hurry."

"But you've seen her all morning, haven't you?" Robert said, clueless.

"Oh, no," said Mary, shooting them a significant look. "I think Anna was still in bed when I came to work this morning."

Anna felt herself blushing right down to his very roots. She tried to fix her best friend with her best glowering look, but it seemed that it was water off a duck's back. It didn't help that John had as much resilience of straw when it came to weathering this particular storm out in public.

"Anyway, must get on," he said loudly. "I've got lots to get through this morning. I'll see you later, Anna." He leaned in to brush a kiss against her cheek and, at Robert's wide-eyed look, said impatiently, "Please don't tell me that you'd forgotten that Anna and I were dating."

"N-No, of course not!" Robert said hastily, though the look on his face belied his statement. Anna resisted the urge to roll her eyes again. Honestly, what a pair of friends they had. One was so involved that she'd probably want a running commentary from the bedroom, the other so scatty that he had forgotten the important news that his best friend had finally started dating again. It was times like these that made Anna long for her friend Gwen's sanity. Unfortunately Gwen had left the company a few months previous for a better position, and while they still saw each other on a regular basis, Gwen's steadfast presence in the office had been her safe place.

"Never mind any of that," Mary said dismissively. "Come along, Anna. We have lots to talk about. Goodbye, papa. Goodbye, John. I'm afraid that you've monopolised enough of Anna's time recently, so you're not going to get her back for a while. I'm sure you understand how it is."

Before Anna could reach up to kiss John's cheek in farewell, or even voice it, Mary had grabbed her wrist and practically frogmarched her away. She glanced over her shoulder helplessly to find John and Robert staring after them. There would be no escaping Mary's rigorous interrogation this time.

"What on earth was that all about?" she heard Robert say to John.

"I have no idea," John replied airily. "I have absolutely no idea."

Still, even as she was lead towards what would be a very uncomfortable conversation, Anna couldn't bring herself to care too much. She was too happy for that. Her mum had always told her with an air of resignation that when it rained, it poured, but Anna couldn't be more grateful to the literal translation than she was right now. The pouring rain had enabled her and John to spend a very cosy weekend together that probably wouldn't have happened otherwise, and there couldn't be anything greater than that.

She hoped that one day soon, the bad weather would help them out again.

Fin


End file.
